Underneath It All Beats The Same Heart
by xLostInTheSun
Summary: "By any standard, Amy is more similar to me than anyone I've ever met." - Sheldon in The Zazzy Substitution
1. They are alone

**A/N: Hello everyone! I'm back with a new fic. I have ten chapters planned, but this is the only one I've written so far. It's going to feature Sheldon and Amy, both as a couple as well as individual characters - mostly as individual characters, actually. I had this idea due to Sheldon's affirmation that Amy and he are basically the same people. Each chapter is going to explore one aspect of that. **

**Ten chapters are planned, like I said, but don't hesitate to suggest aspects you'd like me to explorel; I might write them :)**

**Note that this story isn't in chronological order.**

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_I spent a long time hiding _  
_Believing that I was alone _  
_Under the surface I was stone_

**Same Heart** - Tom Chaplin & Laura Jansen

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**I. They are alone.**

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It's a warm day, as it almost always is at this time of the year in Texas. The sun is low in the sky and the lively streets of Galveston gradually empty as children are called back home for dinnertime.

One of them is a lively little girl, with an angel face, beautiful brown curls bouncing on her bare shoulders and big, dreamy eyes excited with the prospects of the cinnamon rolls she knows she's going to find on her dessert plate tonight. She seems so at ease, laughing with all her friends, so numerous that when one has to go back home, she doesn't even notice their departure, for she's still surrounded by many others. She seems to be their queen, and why shouldn't she be? She's pretty and lively and everyone _adores_ her, the way it should be.

Everyone adores her, except for one person.

She's oblivious to the annoyed stare frowned upon her. Then again, said stare comes from behind a window, and at this point, she doesn't care much for people who aren't playing with her on the burnt grass.

The stare is blue, a dark shade of it, painted in resentment and betrayal. An angry frown is drawn on the face of the boy it belongs to. He wishes he was judging her for spending so much time with idiots like them, but most of the time, he actually catches himself simply wondering "How does she do it?"

His twin sister is a social butterfly, and ten year old Sheldon Lee Cooper is jealous.

However, he's never going to admit it to anyone. It already took him so long to realise it for himself. If asked about it, he'd simply spit that Missy should be ashamed of fraternizing with the enemy. "They torment me, and yet you play with the neighbourhood kids when you really should be siding with me, as I am your brother," he'd say, adding that a martial court would punish such an offense by death. But the fact remains: Sheldon is as lonely as Missy is popular, and he can't help wondering where it went wrong.

Of course, it might be the fact that he's so much more intelligent than anyone else he knows. He's only ten, and yet he's already a college student, for his brain is that superior to that of everyone else's. The neighbourhood kids obviously feel threatened by him, and Sheldon understands them. He'd be pretty intimidated by his mind, if he were a common person. But still. Sheldon likes to think that if he were a common boy, he'd still be clever enough to realise the benefits of having such a gifted friend and would fall over himself to be at his beck and call.

It never went that way, though. Ever since Missy and he started school, seven years ago, they've been totally different when it comes to social interactions. Their first day at kindergarten established the rules of what the rest of their school years would be like.

Upon arriving here, Missy had already strutted off to two little girls who had arrived earlier. Sheldon had known for a fact that Missy didn't know any of them prior to this meeting, but she still had exuded confidence when she had tapped on their shoulders and asked "Do you want to play with me?" without so much as a glance back to Mom or Sheldon. He had watched his twin sister and her two newest friends walk towards the toys at the back of the room before looking up towards his mother when she said "Ah, good girl."

Mom had then looked at him and said "It's time to let go of my leg and go play with the other little children, Shelly."

Sheldon remembers shaking his head vehemently, positively terrified of talking to someone he didn't know, and clinging to Mom's leg even harder. And when, nearly ten minutes later, she convinced him to talk to a lonely boy sitting in a corner, he had trembled so much he couldn't walk straight.

"Hello," he had said, and the boy had nodded his answer.

"I'm Billy."

"Sheldon."

They had sat there together in an awkward silence until the beginning of their school day. Sheldon had seen his mother leave without a word and wanted to cry, but what happened next had distracted him enough from her abandonment.

Mrs Holborn had said she was going to teach them colours, and Sheldon had rolled his eyes. He'd known them for a long time and doubted any of these children would learn anything new. How wrong had he been.

He'd known Missy was kind of stupid, of course. He'd grown up with her, after all, and the fact that she seemed amazed that day to learn that red was red didn't surprise him so much. But he soon realised that no one else in this class had known that beforehand. He'd suddenly feel pretty damn special, but also strangely alone. And it had gone worse when Sheldon had pointed out a mistake to their teacher.

"Red isn't a primary colour. Magenta is. Magenta is a type of red, and so is vermillion, but vermillion isn't a primary colour."

The class had stared at him until Missy's annoyingly high voice had chirped in:

"My brother, Sheldon the freak."

Everyone had laugh, and Billy had not wanted to talk to him during the break.

Sheldon sighs, the memory of this first day fading when he hears his Mee-Maw's voice calling him from downstairs.

"Moon Pie, dinner's ready."

When he enters the kitchen, a couple of minutes later, he finds everyone sitting here, waiting for him. Mee-Maw, Mom, Dad, Missy and George Jr. He sits silently, and imagines himself someplace else when Mee-Maw says the prayer. He may love Mee-Maw more than anyone else, he still won't follow her in her crazy beliefs.

Dinner is calm. Sheldon doesn't even want to brag that he's already completed all of his summer assignments. He's not sure why, until Mom asks something and Sheldon realises the question has been unconsciously nagging him all day at the back of his mind.

"Shelly, Missy, what do you plan on doing for your birthday?"

"Can we throw a party, like last year?"

Missy's ideas are the worst.

"Sure, if Shelly's okay with that."

He shrugs. He's past the point of caring.

"Okay, so I was thinking of inviting Bethany, Leah, Julie, Roxy, Garance, Patrick, Billy, Ron, Augustus, Kevin, Freddie and Noah."

"That's quite a list you've got here, Missy. Leave some room for Sheldon's f…"

Mom doesn't finish her sentence. "Sheldon's friends". As if.

"I'm not hungry."

He pretends he doesn't hear his father shouting his name and goes back to his room, quashing his sadness under a huge pile of denial.

"I'm too good for friends, anyway."

**ooo**

The music is way too loud, everyone seems way too promiscuous, and she's obviously way too drunk. She really shouldn't have gotten herself that second drink. Cousin Irene would laugh at her, if she knew two drinks are enough to nearly knock her out, but Amy's past the point of caring. It's the first time ever she's been invited to a party – okay, it's the first time ever she snuck into a party she's never been invited to – and she's determined to have fun. God knows she's been waiting for this night for a long time.

When starting her first year as a college student last month, Amy promised herself that she would forget the previous sixteen years of loneliness and actually go out of her way to make friends. All these years, the problem has probably been that Amy wished for them more than she actively tried to get friendly with anyone. Throwing coins into fountains wishing for friends has been childish, even if somewhat comforting – "It's not my fault these fountains are defective" – but she's older, now. She knows better than to just sit around and hope someone notices she exists and has feelings and wants to be liked.

So she's here, at the very first party she's ever attended, because she knows college students usually socialise in events like this one. This is definitely out of her comfort zone; the pop songs blasting way too loudly from the speakers are far from the classical music she usually listens to, the amount of skin shown by the people around her makes her feel completely overdressed (what is wrong with wearing tights, a knee-length skirt, a long-armed shirt and a cardigan to a party, really?), and the expensive, alcoholic cocktails she's been drinking burnt her throat and now make her thoughts cloudy and confused.

Amy feels herself sway on the spot, her body functions impaired by the alcohol, and decides it's time for her to sit down for a while, until she feels a bit better. Her eyes scan around the room, but she soon realises that every seat here is taken by pair bonded couples quite simply "making out". Amy can't help feeling a pang of envy, and it makes her feel a bit uneasy. While she's craved for friends for as long as she can remember, she's never really partaken in the craze for romance. In high school, she's witnessed her dumb classmates become even dumber as hormones kicked in and urged them to seduce people from the opposite sex – and sometimes from the same sex – and merely shook her head in disapproval, congratulating herself for being out of this madness. Of course, it might have been that she was two years younger than most of them, but she likes to think she was simply too good for that. But there she is, now, kind of wishing against her better judgment that she had a boyfriend too. It's probably the alcohol talking, or simply the fact that being in a romantic – and sexual – relationship is kind of a part of most college students. She's not sure which one it is, but either way, it's certainly a first for her.

She finally sees an empty spot and makes her way there, bumping into dancing students and kissing couples probably more than is socially acceptable. She flings herself on the chair and takes a deep breathe, looking around her. Dancers, kissers, drinkers, dancers, kissers, drinkers… She suddenly feels very ill at ease, and hears a few words at the back of her mind. "You shouldn't be here. It's not your world." The nagging voice sounds a bit like her mother's, and that's nothing new for her mother can prove to be a tad bit too overprotective at times, but there's also something else. It takes her a dozen seconds to realise it, and then it strikes Amy; it's Ashley Philip's voice.

Amy winces. Even after ending high school more than four months again, Ashely Philip keeps tormenting her. She remembers the taunts, the nicknames, the pranks, the insults, the rumours and everything the blonde, perfect cheerleader threw her way. It still stings, because Amy's not stupid and she's understood something a few weeks ago already; starting college didn't magically enhance her life. She's still as alone as ever.

She sighs and decides that maybe it's time for her to go back to her dorm. She still wants to make friends, but she obviously won't accomplish that tonight. Maybe at the library. Students here are more likely to be people who'd actually like her, anyway. She might even find herself a cute, geeky boyfriend. He'd be tall and lanky and dark and have the bluest eyes she's ever seen. "Or you might stay alone until your dying day," adds Ashley Philip's voice in her head.

Amy gets up, but she's not walked three meters when she bumps into someone. The other person's drink spills on her cardigan, and the cold alcohol soaking through her clothes onto her skin makes her yelp.

"I'm sorry."

The voice is deep and rich, and Amy looks up to the prettiest boy she's ever seen. He's not dark nor lanky, but he's tall and his blond curls fall on blue eyes, and Amy finds herself smiling.

"It's okay," she says.

"Let me buy you a drink to apologize."

It's a bad idea. Amy's drunk enough as it is, and she really ought to go home, except that she suspects the guy might actually be flirting with her, so in the end, she just smiles and nods, following him to the bar.

"What's your name?" she asks.

"Mike."

He doesn't ask what's hers, and it should have been her first clue.

"What will you have?"

"Erm, a glass of white wine, please?"

He places her order without looking at her, and it should have been her second clue.

"There you go," chants the barmaid, a little tipsy herself, and Amy smiles at her when she takes her drink.

Mike then leaves without a glance to Amy, and it should have been her third clue.

Instead, she follows him without thinking twice, drinking her glass of wine in nearly one gulp to give herself some courage.

Mike reaches his friends and seats besides them on one of the couches. Amy hesitates a second before sitting with him, oblivious to his friends' questioning looks. Her vision is spinning and she doesn't feel well and rests her head on Mike's shoulder. "What the hell, man?" and "I don't know, I bought her a drink to be a gentleman because I spilled mine on hers and she's followed me back here like she thinks I want to do her…" are the last things she hears before falling asleep.

When she wakes up, Mike and his friends are gone, but she's wearing clothes that don't belong to her. Her face red and warm, she realises what it means and has never felt so ashamed in her life. She quickly leaves the party, practically running for her dorm, her foggy head causing her to bump into walls and trees and bins and she's so pathetic she wants to cry.

When she finally can bury herself under the covers of her bed, she lets the tears spill free, staining her pillow, and Ashley Philip's voice, louder than ever, cackles in her mind.

"You'll be forever alone, Fowler."

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**A/N: I hope you enjoyed this :) See you soon for chapter 2, and in the meantime, remember that feedback keeps the polar bears alive!**


	2. They are passionate

**A/N: Hello everyone! Here is chapter two! Thanks a million to those of you who reviewed, followed or favourited! :)**

**On a side note, I just launched the Shamy Fic Exchange on tumblr. The address is .com and the link is on my profile, for easier access. **

**And now, on with chapter two!**

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**II. They're passionate.**

"_Oh, there it is! It always comes back to monkeys with you! Just monkeys, monkeys, monkeys!"_

Amy smiles. She knows she should be angry at Sheldon – her friend stormed off her apartment without so much as a "goodbye" after she suggested his emotional turmoil might have been very common – but she can't help it. He's right – he almost always is, actually – she really does love monkeys a lot.

(Besides, she could never stay mad at Sheldon for a long time anyway. Damn this lanky body, these thin, beckoning lips, these sparkling blue eyes and this wonderful mind.)

As far as she can remember, Amy's always liked monkeys. She was two, the first time she saw one. It's also her earliest memory, and she always smiles when she reminisces of that one family trip to the zoo. Uncle Henry and Aunt Louisa had come to visit all the way from Seattle, and Cousin Irene, aged five, had claimed that she was bored and wanted to see something fun. Amy's mother had suggested the zoo, adding it'd be a first for her daughter.

Amy doesn't remember anything of that day, except for the capuchins' living area. It had been a hot, sunny day, and sitting in her stroller, Amy had fought off the urge to stay awake because she had wanted to see animals, but so far, she had been disappointed. The elephants were ugly and the bears way too scary for her. Upon approaching the capuchins, Amy had lost all hope to see something interesting.

Until her eyes locked with one of the monkeys'.

She had instantly smiled. The capuchin had stared at her like he was seeing a human for the first time, and Amy remembers thinking he was a long lost brother she was finally reunited with. She'd been only two, at the time, and had had no idea what this animal was, but she'd known he was bound to be her favourite thing.

"What's this, Mommy?" she'd asked.

"A monkey, Amy. A capuchin."

"Monkey! Capuchin! Monkey, monkey, monkey!"

Amy would have spent the whole afternoon here, but Cousin Irene had dubbed the monkeys stupid and said she wanted to see the lions and the giraffes. And in spite of the tears she'd cried, Amy had not been able to have her way and she'd been torn from her newest friend, her stroller being pushed in the alleys of the zoo.

The rest of the afternoon had not been completely lost, though. The obligatory stop at the zoo's souvenirs shop had proven to be a good idea, for Amy left with a new children book about monkeys and, more importantly, a small, soft, smiling stuffed capuchin.

"Her name's Hilda," she'd said. "She's a girl, like me."

Emerging from her memories, Amy smiles. She's always been very careful with her possessions, and still owns the book, sitting proudly between a medical dictionary and an essay about cultural influences on the human brain. As for Hilda, Amy knows she will find her where she left her this morning: sitting on her bed, waiting to be hugged until Amy succumbs to sleep.

Amy's not sure when her liking for monkeys turned into a full-blown passion, but somewhere along the way, she went from "Monkeys are so cute and intelligent and better than people" to "Primates are truly fascinating. They're basically the key to unlock so much human knowledge it makes my head spin just thinking about it. I want to work with them. Besides, they're better than people."

Amy had never had any friend at school. She'd wished for them a lot, and whenever she thought she'd found someone who would have loved being her friend, she'd learnt the hard way that they'd just been messing with her. That's probably why she found herself so fascinated by monkeys. Humans are primates too, actually, so Amy thought that if she couldn't make friends within her own species, she could probably try making friends with the closest one on the evolutionary tree.

Her first dream job had been just that. Aged eight, she'd turned to her mother and said "When I'm an adult, I'm going to explore the jungle looking for primates and when I find them, I'm going to observe them and take pictures and draw conclusions about human behaviour and I'll write papers and be respected among my peers."

Her mother had had other ideas, though.

"You're too intelligent to spend your life dealing with monkeys, Amy. You're so good at science! Your place is in a laboratory, curing all the diseases people with little morals are bound to catch."

She'd then launched herself into a long explanation as to why Amy should remain a virgin as long as she could. Amy had had trouble finding sleep, that night. Partly because she kept wondering why on earth her mother thought it was okay to scare her for life with tales of Why Coitus Is A Bad Thing when she was only eight, but also mostly because she truly wanted to study primates and she couldn't help wonder what it would take to convince her mother that her place was in the jungle, not in a laboratory.

Later, Amy found a way to please both her mother and herself. Being a neurobiologist specializing in the study of addiction, she happens to work with monkeys, among other animals (these days, it's mostly this stupid starfish. She can't wait to get it hooked on cocaine so she can work with something more interesting). Unfortunately, Amy does not work with monkeys as often as she'd like, and she can't help hating herself when she stops for a minute and realises she's bringing addiction (and subsequently death) into the life of animals who'd otherwise be happy and alive left alone.

She remembers Ricky's death and the overwhelming feeling of guilt she felt. It had not been the first time a primate from her addiction study panel died, and she'd always felt a bit distraught whenever that happened, but Ricky's death had been different. He'd been the first capuchin she'd kill, and Amy couldn't help thinking she'd kill that one little guy she'd seen at the zoo, nearly three decades before. Besides, she'd let Ricky hang out at her place. True, he'd been an ass, but you can't live with someone for more than three months and not get used and even attached to them, in spite of their many flaws.

Sometimes, she wishes she'd stood up to her mother and had decided to become a professional primate specialist. She still reads about them and follows the news of the field in her spare time, but somehow, it's not enough. She loves her job, of course. Being a neurobiologist is cool, after all, but more often than not, she realises she'd be happy with doing neurobiology in her spare time while her true job would be in the field of primatology. Bernadette can say that biology isn't something you can do on the side all she wants, Amy doesn't care: she knows she's intelligent enough to manage it.

But in the end, she doesn't think she'll ever undergo a change of career. She has a reputation, now, as one of the best neurobiologists of the country, and she's found a routine that she enjoys. And, most importantly, she's got friends, now.

Sheldon might be right, it always goes back to monkeys for her, but Amy also knows that even if she still finds them better than people, there are some exceptions to the rule. Monkeys are better than _most_ people she knows, and that's the key. As passionate as she is about them, now that she's tasted what it's like to have human friends, she doesn't think she'd be very happy exploring the jungle looking for primates.

Unless she can convince Sheldon and Penny to join her, but somehow, she doubts they'd follow her.

**ooo**

"There you go Shelly. This is the last box."

Mom points behind her back and Sheldon turns his head towards the door just in time to see George Jr. entering the room with a huge box labelled as "Fragile".

"That's so heavy, what have you got in there?" his brother asks, dropping the box without a second thought the second he's in the dorm.

"NO!"

Sheldon's cry echoes in the room but it's too late: the box hits the floor in a loud crash and Sheldon feels his vision swim. In two long strides, he's kneeling besides it, his shaking hands trying and failing spectacularly to open it.

"Calm down, Shelly. It's all okay."

His voice trembles and he seems on the verge of tears when he answers.

"No it's not."

"It's just a box, Shelly. And I'm sure whatever's in there is okay."

Sheldon's eyebrows knit together in the hardest frown he's ever given in his life. How could his mother be so careless about the one box containing his most treasured possessions? He knew he shouldn't have let George carry this one. He'd always been too stupid and too careless for his own good, not to mention Sheldon's.

"You have no idea what you're talking about, Mother," Sheldon spits, venom lacing his tone and shoulders shaking from anger.

Under normal circumstances, Sheldon would have recognised the look in his mother's eyes as the one meaning "Sheldon Cooper, special kid or not, you talk to me like that once more and I kick your ass", but this is definitely not a normal day. After a three hour long drive, Sheldon, Mom and George just arrived to his new school, the University of Texas. Begging his parents to let him attend a college finally proved successful, and Sheldon is to start his classes in two days. However, the distance between the college and his hometown is too important for him to keep living home, so here he is, leaving the nest for the first time and discovering his new dorm.

On the way here, Sheldon's mind wandered once more to places he wishes it'd never wandered. The truth is that he doesn't know what he's feeling. On the one hand, he's excited to attend a school that might offer him a challenge – he's still not entirely sure about that, for he _is_ exceptionally intelligent and the University of Texas could have some trouble keeping up with him – and to finally flee the oppressing environment that is his parents' house. On the other hand, though, said environment is the only one he's ever known, and if there's one thing Sheldon Cooper's afraid of, it's change – that, and birds, but this one should definitely be more common for birds are positively terrifying.

As much as he hates it, his life in Galveston is a constant routine he established to always keep some control on his life. On this new campus, everything he's always taken for granted and known to be true is going to change. Sheldon will have to adjust to his new environment, to create a new routine, to try his best to remain in control. He knows he can do it, of course – there isn't anything he can't do, really – but it doesn't mean he's not scared to death.

Which is why the carelessness with which his mother and his brother have treated this box infuriates him so much. It would definitely have annoyed him back in Galveston, but it's even worse today, for this box contains everything he knows he'll always have.

"These are my _Star Trek_ action figures. They're highly valuable and I won't tolerate any carelessness around them."

George rolls his eyes at Sheldon while their mother puts her hands on her hips.

"Really, Shelly? I thought I told you not to bring them with you! You're a college student, now, you're way too old for playing with dolls."

"They're action figures, not dolls. There is no right age to own them. Besides, in spite of my advanced mental capacities, I'm still a child. It'd still be considered appropriate for me to play with dolls."

"Okay, I'm out. Smelly Shelly's boring the life out of me. I'll be waiting in the car, Ma. Later, freak."

Sheldon doesn't pay attention to his brother, but his mother sighs.

"He didn't mean it."

Of course he did. They always do, Missy and him.

"And I'm sure Dad and Missy are already regretting not to be here."

Of course they're not. But that's okay. Sheldon won't miss them either.

"But really, Shelly? You're too old and above all too intelligent for this make believe world."

Several thoughts run through Sheldon's head. He's tempted to point out that his mother is definitely too old for fantasy worlds, yet she still believes in God and lives by the Bible, but he's learnt the hard way that this is never a good thing to say to an already angry Mary Cooper. He thinks about pointing out that, like he said not even half a minute ago, he's not too old to play with toys, and wants to add that the _Star Trek_ universe is definitely very complex and not below him, unlike many of the things his mother insists on pretending are good for him when he knows they're not.

But mostly, he's infuriated that his mother won't understand that _Star Trek_ is more than just a TV show.

There's not a lot of things that have Sheldon Cooper's full admiration. Besides physics, which is obviously what he likes most – that's why he's here, after all – he also has a soft spot for trains – he'd have been a great train conductor, hadn't he been such a genius – and for science fiction.

He's read plenty of science fiction novels, his favourite being _The War of the Worlds, _and seen more movies than he can count – bless George Lucas and _Star Wars _– but to him, the greatest treasure of the genre remains _Star Trek_ – and while both are good, Missy should shut her mouth because they're definitely _not_ the same, thank you very much.

Sheldon's not quite sure what he likes so much about this franchise. It could be the fact that going into space is one of his dreams and that he's determined to make it happen. It could be Mr Spock and his aversion for emotions and physical contacts, something Sheldon can relate to quite well. It could be the great plot and the refreshing storylines. Or maybe it's just the fact that Sheldon discovered _Star Trek_ in a time of need, and that its characters were his only friends for so long he finds himself nearly praying to a God he doesn't believe in to make them real. It's probably a bit of all of this, and even more, actually.

The truth is that Sheldon is scared to death of this new chapter he's about to write in the book of his life, and his action figures are the only thing that is going to keep him safe and sane here. His mother has the Bible, and he has _Star Trek_.

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**A/N: Thanks a lot for reading, and remember, everytime you review, Sheldon and Amy get closer to have intercourse on the show ;)**


	3. They are victims

**A/N: a million times sorry for the delay. I had a massive writer's block on Amy's part of the chapter. Sheldon's has been written for two weeks but I could never get out the words for Amy's so in the end, I just wrote something completely different than what I first had in mind. Anyway, thank you for your patience, I hope you like this chapter - it's kind of "meh" in my opinion.**

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For the first time in a long, long time, Sheldon is positively _hurting_. Andeven though he _knows_ he should not care that much – it's not as if it's the first time someone pulls a prank on him (and he realizes now that it's probably not going to be the last one either) – he can't help that overwhelming feeling of utter disappointment.

But he guesses he'll get over it, eventually. He is used to being a victim, after all. He's been one for most of his life, really.

As a child, he's been the victim of endless tormenting from kids in his neighbourhood, in his school and _in his own family_. He remembers them all too well, the endless hours spent being chased by some Billy or some Freddie, the numerous punches in the nose or in the stomach, the violent insults thrown to his face and behind his back. He remembers wishing he were home from school already, far from his tormentors, only to remember that George Jr. was among the worst and that Missy was so jealous of him she would never hesitate helping their older brother in hurting him.

Later, as university student, he's been the victim of the age gap between him and his peers. In spite of the fact that for the first time in his life, the university made him feel like he truly belonged somewhere – in this case, the world of Physics – Sheldon had paradoxically never felt lonelier. Jealousy arose again, and he was always left out of everything. He didn't really mind, because he was here for the Physics teaching, not for the company of silly students, but sometimes, when he would get really tired and, surprisingly, a bit homesick, he would admit to himself that it still stung a little.

Then, when he finally got his doctorate and could claim himself a man, he was hired by CalTech, had to move to California – "the State of Sin", had said his mother disapprovingly –, and once more, he became a victim. He got himself a few enemies – Leslie Winkle and Barry Kripke particularly get on his nerves, but they're only two out of several other idiots decided to annoy the hell out of him – that made his life a repeat performance of his childhood, for the taunts and bad nicknames started again. He also had to put up with an administration that obviously didn't know what is good for whoever was responsible never followed through with his suggestions nor listened to his very justified complaints, effectively becoming a silenced victim.

In more ways than he can count, Sheldon has been a victim – a martyr, even – his whole life, and he had somehow learnt to live with it, mostly because there were still some people who were there for him.

As a child, it had been his mother, and his Mee-Maw. He had also found solace, warmth and comfort in the precious knowledge that Spock would have been proud of him, had he been real and aware of Sheldon's existence, and the action figure he had brought from Galveston turned out to be a great help to get through the few years he spent alone on this big campus.

And after a few years spent working at CalTech, and for the first time in his life, Sheldon finally found himself a few friends. Sure, they are not as intelligent as he is, and one of them only has a Master's degree, but they have always been prompt to help him. Sure, Leonard had only been respecting the rules outlined in the roommate agreement, and Howard and Raj used to complain more than they would truly participate to whatever brilliant idea Sheldon had, but nevertheless, they'd been here and it had been the first time Sheldon had ever truly felt comfortable with people who were not Mom or Meemaw.

Which is why becoming _their_ victim hurts much more than it did with Kevin and Billy and Leslie Winkle and anyone else who ever decided to make his life an absolute nightmare.

Of course, he's mostly feeling so low because he rendered himself ridiculous to everyone at CalTech. That e-mail he sent to everyone when they got back from the North Pole became the trendiest joke as soon as it's been revealed that he had been pranked, and the reputation he built for himself over the years has gone up in smoke as certainly as if he had decided it to burn it out in the open. Everyone laughs at him now, and while this is certainly nothing new, now he can't brush it off by pointing out that they're simply jealous of him because he truly and well rendered himself ridiculous. Everything he's ever worked for has been destroyed, and the people responsible for his demise are people he never thought would become his worst enemies.

But the fact remains that the prank Leonard, Rajesh and Howard played on him during their mission at the North Pole cost him everything, and it positively _hurts _to think that his friends would stoop so low as to become the reincarnation of the neighbourhood kids who used to hunt him down the street and scare him into climbing up trees.

That's mostly why he's going back to Galveston, actually. He wants to escape the snickers and the smug looks of his fellow CalTech scientists, sure, but the truth is that when he left Texas, he thought he'd never be the laughing stock of anyone else, ever again. Now that his own friends turned against him to make him look so ridiculous, it only seems logical for him to go back to his hometown, where he first experienced what it's like to be a victim.

Because as much as it used to hurt back when he was a child, it could never compare to the feeling of betrayal he's feeling after having been stabbed in the back by his two of his closest friends and one treasured acquaintance.

His dead father would shake his head in shame if he saw his son behaving so cowardly, but Sheldon knows for a fact that George Cooper never really cared for loyalty, so in the end, it doesn't matter and he still goes ahead and buys his plane ticket.

**ooo**

Penny isn't that perfect, after all. It's quite the sad realization, because Amy understands that admiring Penny was basically admiring Ashley Phillips, and the idea makes her a little sick to the stomach.

Sometimes it's easy to forget, because she's got amazing friends and even the best boyfriend on earth now, but there was a time where she was the saddest girl in all of her high school, and girls like Ashley Phillips – _girls like Penny _– were definitely part of her problems – that, and her overprotective mother, her insufferable cousins, and her very low self-confidence.

Quite simply put, Amy's been the victim of bullying at the hands of people like her best friend. She doesn't really know what to do about it, and as much as she'd like to believe that Penny knows how horrible she's been, Amy's not sure her gorgeous Bestie truly realizes how harmful her "pranks" were. She's changed, sure (after all, she is Amy's best friend), but Amy's not certain that she did it for the right reasons.

And it puts her in a very uncomfortable place, one where she's somehow befriended her worst enemy.

She might be overreacting, of course – that's what her mother tells her when she shares her dilemma with her – but Amy can't forget the things she went through during the entirety of her school years.

In kindergarten, her status of the pariah of the school the day she told them she was more intelligent than they were. Some people might say she asked for it by being so condescending, but she was only voicing the truth, and one of the numerous things on which Sheldon and she agree is that they're hardly at fault for pointing out the obvious. She was excluded from playdates and had to take her daily nap by herself since no other child agreed to sleep next to her.

Primary school didn't improve her situation, and adding to her social isolation, Amy soon became everyone's favourite punching bag. _Literally_. She can't even think about these days without having the urge to hide under a table, praying for her classmates not to find her, and she's still got a few scars on her arms.

Then came high school and Ashley Phillips. Those were the worst years of her life, even worse than primary school, because for the first time, Amy actually thought she had gotten friends, when actually, they were only pretending so they could hurt her better.

Amy shudders, because the situation strangely resembled what is happening with Penny now. After two years of relentlessly harassing and tormenting her, going as far as turning her into Godzilla-Fingers Fowler, Ashley Phillips had come to Amy and said she'd thought about all the mean things she'd done to Amy and asked if maybe they could forget their bad history and become friends. Amy had been blinded by the fact that the girl who was likely to become Prom Queen was actually asking her to be her friends, and she'd eagerly nodded her answer, happy to finally become someone.

And isn't it what is going with Penny right now? Amy's been so in awe of her Bestie that she never truly realized that the last time she became friends with a gorgeous, flawless blond goddess, it ended up backfiring and costing her a lot.

She asks Sheldon about it, and in his opinion, they shouldn't trust former bullies – he mentions telling the guys they should kill Jimmy Speckerman, Leonard's high school nightmare. Amy doesn't know. Amy's confused, because she likes Penny and she wants to believe that she's not just another Ashley, but then Penny does that thing where she steals clothes from a charity service, and she's left wondering – what if Sheldon was right? What if his neighbor actually is the self-centered person he thinks she is?

(And even in her state of distress, Amy can't help noticing how ironical it is that Sheldon should describe anyone as self-centered. But she loves him like that, and she knows he cares about her anyway, so she really doesn't mind.)

She turns to Bernadette next, and she wonders why she didn't do it before, because as the third wheel of the Penny-Amy bicycle, the petite micro-biologist might have some insight to give to Amy. But she doesn't end up being of much help, because even if she's been bullied at school, Bernadette actually had friends who made the torments a little more bearable.

Amy is still confused, she really wishes the response to her questions would come to her, but in the meantime, she decides not to act harshly, because she'll get the answer someday, won't she?

And she's right, it does come to her, sooner than she expected. It's Girls Night Out and the bar they've chosen that night is packed and the atmosphere thick with tobacco, sweat and alcohol vapours. A few years back, the mere idea of finding herself in such a place would have make Amy's skin crawl with horror, but she's got friends now, even if she's still unsure about her Bestie's intentions.

At some point in the evening – Amy's at her fourth or fifth drink, she doesn't really know – a man who seems pretty intoxicated comes to their table. Amy's convinced he's there to offer a drink to either Penny or Bernadette, so she's really shocked when he asks _her _to follow him on to the dancefloor. It takes her a few seconds to recover and realize he's expecting an answer, but Amy finally finds her senses and says with a polite smile that she's obviously very flattered, but she already has a boyfriend – _a_ _boyfriend, oh God, it's the first time I get to turn someone down because I have a _boyfriend_._

The man seems disappointed, and she thinks that's the end of it, but suddenly a red-haired fury appears at his side and starts screaming into Amy's face. She doesn't quite get what the woman wants at first, because the music is loud and the woman has obviously drunk and chokes on most her words, but Amy finally understands that she's the guy's wife and she's screaming at her for seducing her husband. And then, before Amy even has the time to blink an eye and even less to protect herself, the woman raises her fist and aim for Amy's face.

But it never hits her, because suddenly, Penny's here and there's a fist in her Bestie's eye and she screams in agony while the man takes his furious wife away. Amy doesn't see them being escorted outside the bar by the security staff because she's staring at Penny, one hand on her eye, and she can't believe what just happened – _Penny defended me; Ashley Phillips II defended me._

And suddenly, Amy realizes that those days are truly over. She's not going to be a victim anymore, because she's got friends who spend time with her because they truly care for her, and not because they want to hurt her harder.

These years of bullying are a part of her, of course, and she will never forget them – and after reflection, she's not sure she even wants to, for they probably helped making her stronger – but no matter what Sheldon can say, people do change. Penny sure did.

So Amy just smiles when Bernadette tells her they might have to take Penny to the ER.

* * *

**A/N: At first I wanted to write only about Amy's bullied years, but I couldn't do it without crying so I decided to go with this route. I know it doesn't make Sheldon's and Amy's parts that alike, but in the end, no matter what he might think in the first episode of the third season, his friends are always there for Sheldon. They do go to Texas to get him back, don't they? :)**

**Thank you for reading this! Please do review to tell me what can be improved!**


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